


Recovery

by draco_illius_noctis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of addiction, Mild Angst, Slow Burn, more like dislike, not really enemies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draco_illius_noctis/pseuds/draco_illius_noctis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian notices Cullen’s lyrium withdrawal episodes are becoming more frequent and more intense. Despite their tense relationship, Dorian offers an as-yet untested potential treatment to rid the lyrium from his system for good. </p>
<p>My submission to the 2015 Cullrian mini-bang</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> There is also [AMAZING art](http://fyeahcullrian.tumblr.com/post/129253502242/cullrian-mini-bang-prompt-48-recovery-team) to accompany this fic! Seriously, once I saw it I thought it just pulled all the hope and feelings together in the best possible way.

Cullen’s headache wasn’t particularly bad as he made his way to the training yard, but still strong enough to be a nuisance. He was early, as he usually was, and saw he was the first to arrive.

No…there was someone else there, he realized. He could make out a lone figure perched on the stairs, sitting quite still and seemingly doing nothing.

Upon closer inspection he realized it was Dorian Pavus reading a book, and he felt his insides involuntarily clench at the sight. He did  _not_  want to deal with the man’s cheekiness, feeling the way he was that morning. But he was needed in the yard, and shirking his duties to avoid speaking to one man was ridiculous.

The troops arrived not much later, quickly grabbing their practice weapons and moving through the drills. Cullen wove amongst them, barking out orders and correcting bad form - all the while feeling the pain in his head multiplying rapidly, blooming into something far worse than a bothersome ache.

“Commander, are you—,” one of the troops asked, hesitatingly stepping out of line.

“I’m fine,” Cullen barked, rubbing his temple.

The recruit quickly moved back into place, several of them shooting Cullen nervous glances as they trained. Dorian, he noticed, had also paused, his book lying forgotten in his lap as he watched Cullen intently.

“Mind your…arm, recruit,” Cullen stammered, faltering as one leg buckled, and he almost fell to his knees. He righted himself, clutching one side of his head as he winced in pain.

Suddenly, a body appeared next to him, taking one of his arms and draping it across the body’s shoulders. He couldn’t focus his eyes enough to make out a face, but smelled an intriguing combination of wine and spices. It was exotic, but still somehow familiar.

“We can’t have you ruining your cloak, Commander. I  _shudder_  to think of the alternative,” the voice said.

Cullen didn’t respond, leaning more weight on the body as another wave of pain surged through his head. He felt himself being led away from the grounds, up the steps, and a moment of panic rose in his chest.

“The troops…” he managed to choke out.

“The troops will be fine,” the voice said, soothingly. “You, on the other hand, will not be unless we get you to bed.”

Cullen took a deep breath, pulling his remaining strength together just to make it to his quarters without collapsing.

He was – as gracefully as possible – dumped into his chair upon arrival, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk as he held his head in his hands.

“ _That_  is where you sleep?” he heard moments later, from his right. “I’m sorry Commander, but I fear I am not nearly strong enough to carry you up a ladder.”

Cullen finally paused, turning to look towards the voice to properly thank whoever had saved what little-remaining dignity he had left.

The sight only made his head throb with more severity once he realized to whom he was speaking.

“Get out,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“ _Excuse_  me?” Dorian’s eyes widened at the tone. “I wasn’t expecting fanfare over my help, but—“

“You will not speak a word of this to anyone,” Cullen continued, every word another strike through his temple.

Silence followed, but Dorian had not left. He glanced to the side again, seeing the mage studying him with a pensive and slightly pitying look. If there was one person he did not want pity from, it was Dorian Pavus.

“I can help, you know,” Dorian replied softly. “It’s lyrium, isn’t it? If you would just—“

“I do not need anything from  _you_ ,” Cullen spat out. “Now if you would kindly cooperate and leave me alone…”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed, not at all intimidated by the large man or his tone.

“I will fetch Trevelyan then,” Dorian finally said, evidently bored with the conversation. “Perhaps he can talk some sense into you.”

“ _No_ ,” Cullen roared as he snapped his head towards the man. He instantly regretted it as a sharp jab of pain shot down his head and neck, causing him to cry out in pain. Dorian was by his side immediately, hand slightly aglow as he reached towards Cullen.

“Commander, if you will just let me…”

“Get  _out_ ,” Cullen shouted again. “Do not bring the Inquisitor, do not touch me, and  _do not_  tell anyone what transpired.”

Silence was his response before Cullen heard a deep sigh.

“As you wish, Commander,” Dorian replied, waving his hand dismissively as he walked towards the door. “I would still recommend at least making it to your bed.” He paused before shutting the door.

“And  _you’re welcome_.”

* * *

Dorian fumed the entire way back to the library, knocking shoulders with whoever didn’t have the good sense to move out of his way in time.

_How_ dare _that uncivilized oaf speak to me like that…,_  he seethed, tossing books around his alcove haphazardly before finally sinking into his overstuffed chair with a huff. He was only trying to  _help_. The man was about to fall face-first into the mud in front of his fresh-faced recruits, and this was how he thanked him?

There was no reason this man should have such an effect on him. The Commander was just another in a long line of people who did nothing but glare at him sharply when he spoke and ignored him when he didn’t.

But even still, part of him  _liked_  Cullen. The man had a wry sense of humor that Dorian felt was underappreciated by the other members of the inner circle. He often found himself snickering at a comment the Commander would make, quickly covering it up before anyone noticed. Cullen would shoot him a curious glance before returning his attention to the task at hand, but said nothing.

It didn’t matter, though. He had no grand hopes of making friends with the man, and it wasn’t worth his time.

He stretched, making up his mind that he would enjoy a late breakfast – and perhaps some early wine – while he decided what to do with his day. As he began to stand, however, his eye caught on a book sitting to the left of his feet; one of the special tomes he was able to have imported from his personal library in Tevinter. The effects of lyrium – on both ends of the spectrum – was a small side hobby he liked to study. He knew far more prominent minds than his researched the topic, but there was actually very little known about the withdrawal effects and how to combat them.

Except he had stumbled upon a promising thread not that long ago. And despite the absolute insolence from the man earlier, it was still a problem tantalizing enough to pursue once more.

He tucked himself back into his chair with the book, all thoughts of food forgotten.

* * *

Cullen tossed the small vial into a drawer with the other suspicious-looking bottles that had been appearing in and around his quarters for the last week. They would join the random assortment of herbs in the drawer and books on the shelf that seemed to only materialize while he was out of his office.

He knew they were from Dorian. The mage had left a message in the first book he left, encouraging him to seek the man out to discuss his “situation” further. Cullen had tossed the book on the bottom shelf and did not say a word.

The man was mocking him. He seemed to enjoy reminding Cullen that he knew his secret, to lord it over him as if it were some kind of extortion chip. The Commander refused to play the game, quietly avoiding him whenever possible and ignoring him completely when they were forced into the same room.

But it was this last vial that finally broke all composure. Dorian had left it on his desk ( _I must do something about locking my doors,_  he thought) with a small folded piece of paper.

_Commander –_

_You are being incredibly stubborn for someone so attractive._

_Please come see me, I believe we can come to an agreement._

       -  _Dorian_

So this was it. Dorian had enough of his charade and finally decided to see what he could wheedle out of Cullen in exchange for his silence.

Well, Cullen wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He grabbed the note and stormed into the rotunda, brushing past a nonplussed Solas and right to Dorian’s alcove.

“Commander!” Dorian exclaimed, closing his book with a loud thump. “It’s about time you came to your senses.”

“I will not be toyed with,” Cullen hissed, bending low enough so only he and Dorian could hear.

Dorian raised an eyebrow as he met Cullen’s glare.

“As much as I might enjoy ‘toying’ with you, Commander, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Was this not from you?” Cullen asked, showing him the crumpled note in his fist.

Dorian nodded. “Yes, and? Please do not tell me you took my flirting seriously.”

“I…” Cullen huffed, looking around in frustration. “That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Cullen, if I had any clue what you are speaking about, I assure you, I would let you know,” Dorian sighed impatiently. “I merely wish to help. What did you think I wanted?”

Cullen paused, trying to decide whether or not he was telling the truth.

“I do not require any help,” he finally replied, shaking his head. “And I would appreciate it if you ceased with your…gifts.” He turned slightly red in the face on the last word, something Dorian did not miss.

“My ‘gifts’ will help you sleep at night,” the mage replied. “I take it you haven’t tried them?”

“Of course not,” Cullen scoffed. “How was I to know what it was? Do you think I make a habit of drinking from small, unmarked vials I find lying about on the ramparts?”

It was the wrong thing to say, Cullen realized, as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Dorian’s expression went from mildly amused to furious within seconds.

“You thought I would  _poison_  you, Commander?” he seethed. “Exactly what kind of man do you take me for?”

Cullen felt the redness creep up his neck in embarrassment, but he stood up straight and looked Dorian in the eye.

“I know what your kind are capable of, I would not put it past anyone. It’s not personal.”

“ _My kind?_ ” Dorian barked out a laugh. “And what ‘kind’ would that be? Mage? Tevinter? Please, do tell.”

Cullen could feel the air prickling with electricity around him and his hand unconsciously went to the hilt of his sword. Dorian’s eyes flickered from his hand to his face, mouth turned up in a sneer.

“Would you strike me down here, Commander? For no reason other than offering my help?”

“I am not so rash,” came Cullen’s short reply. He bristled at the sarcasm dripping from Dorian’s voice and decided it was probably in his best interest to end the conversation here. The other man had gotten the message, and he felt confident he would not be bothered again.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to,” he concluded, ignoring the incredulous look Dorian gave him.

“You’re…” Dorian looked away, shaking his head in amazement before reopening his book. “Off with you then. Just remember: the next time you have an episode, don’t come crawling to me.”

Cullen bit off a reply, knowing it would be fruitless as Dorian was already emphatically ignoring him, flipping through the pages of his book. He spun on his heels and descended the stairwell, giving Solas the briefest of nods as he stormed back to his quarters.

He threw open the drawer where he had tossed the sundries Dorian had been leaving, intending to toss them out the window and be done with the entire affair. But, he realized, perhaps they could be of use to someone else. He packed them up, debating who would be the wisest choice to bring them to.

If they were poison, he did not want to explain how he obtained them or why. If they were healing potions, as Dorian led him to believe, then it would be foolish to let them go to waste. He decided Vivienne would be his best choice. She would be able to identify the concoctions and be discreet about his visit.

However, this would require him to pass by Dorian.

He ruminated on the situation, debating if he should arrange to meet her somewhere else. He ultimately decided that would be cowardly and he did not want to give Dorian the satisfaction of getting under his skin.

Satisfied with his decision, he made his way to Vivienne’s claimed space above the great hall. He noted that Dorian was no longer in his alcove as he passed, quietly relieved that he avoided another confrontation. He had been to the enchanter’s quarters – for lack of a better term – only once, to acquaint himself with the layout of the building.

Vivienne was reclined on her chaise lounge, engrossed in a book as he walked in.

“Excuse me, Madame Vivienne,” Cullen began, clearing his throat. She looked up, raising one eyebrow in surprise.

“How can I help you, Commander?” she asked, placing her book on the table as she smoothly rose to greet him. Cullen always felt nervous around the imposing woman – and he knew it had nothing to do with her being a mage.

“A small favor, if I may have a moment of your time?” he replied, hoping he didn’t appear as tense as he felt.

“Would it have to do with those vials you are struggling to hide under your cloak?” she inquired, reaching out to take the small bowl Cullen had used to transport them.

“I was hoping you could…identify them for me?”

He hesitated, wondering how much he should reveal. Vivienne began uncorking the bottles one by one, holding them up to the light in examination before sniffing.

“They all appear to be healing potions, darling,” she replied, seemingly bored with the results. “Quite unusual mixtures, though. I’m not exactly sure what they would be used for. Where did you get them?”

“They were ah, left for me,” Cullen replied evasively, a feeling of dread rising in his chest. Dorian had been trying to help him after all. He felt incredibly foolish and wished to be out from under Vivienne’s appraising gaze as soon as possible.

“Well, Commander, I would recommend donating them to the healers. Unless, of course, you have a use for them?” She fixed him with another questioning stare.

“No, I…no, my lady, thank you for the advice.”

He retrieved the vials and with a nod exited her chamber.

He needed to find Dorian.

* * *

The wine was not what Dorian would have preferred at that moment, but beggars can’t be choosers, and the tavern was not known for a choice selection. He was more concerned with the potency of the drink anyway, not the taste.

He was still livid over his confrontation with Cullen. That the man had the audacity to storm into his space and begin flinging accusations…well, he was thankful now that he would not be helping the man. He didn’t think he’d be able to put up with his childish antics for long.

He gestured for a second glass just as he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

“Dorian…if I may have a word?”

Cullen.  _Of course,_  it was Cullen. He whirled around in his seat to find the man shifting his weight uneasily as he rubbed the back of his neck. Dorian smirked.  _This_  could be fun.

“And  _why_  should I even acknowledge your presence after the reprehensible display you put on earlier?”

The Commander flushed, looking even more uncomfortable, if possible.

“I wish to apologize, but I would like to speak to you in private,” Cullen replied, keeping his voice low. Dorian fought back the urge to laugh in Cullen’s face. The man actually appeared contrite, but he was not going to let the man’s earlier words appear forgotten.

“Very well,” Dorian sighed. “I will allow you a few moments.” He gestured towards a table off to the side, but Cullen shook his head no.

“In private, please,” he repeated. “I do not wish…” he glanced around the room uneasily. “I do not wish for others to overhear.”

Dorian sighed, making a show of his displeasure at leaving his admittedly uncomfortable seat and horrible drink. But Cullen didn’t need to know that.

The man ushered him out the door where they made their way to the battlements.

“A romantic stroll under the moonlight is your idea of a ‘private chat,’ Commander?” Dorian smirked. He couldn’t see Cullen’s face, but he had a feeling the other man was turning red at the words.

“I just…” Cullen sighed, trailing off. They stopped in a relatively secluded place, no patrols within hearing distance.

“I wanted to apologize,” he began. “I realize now that you were trying to help me and I was perhaps too harsh in my treatment of you.”

“’Perhaps’?” Dorian snorted. “’Perhaps’ it would hurt if I fell off this wall right now, as well. Your behavior was inexcusable, we both know that.”

“And I am honestly sorry for it,” Cullen repeated again, earnestly. “I would also like to…discuss your proposal.”

Dorian looked at him sharply. He had a feeling Cullen was not a man who admitted when he needed help, ever. He must truly be desperate.

“It won’t be easy, Commander, I should let you know that from the start,” he began, warily.

Cullen enthusiastically nodded his head.

“Right, I expected as much,” he said in a relieved burst of words. “Please, I have wine in my office, perhaps we could discuss it there?”

Dorian grinned to himself as he gestured for Cullen to lead the way. If he were a crueler man, he would be taking great delight in this. But as he watched the Commander rush back to his quarters like an eager puppy, he couldn’t help but feel like he was doing the right thing.

Cullen pulled a chair over for Dorian upon entering the room, before searching in – what Dorian assumed – his desk drawer for the wine.

“I’m ah,” Cullen mumbled as he searched, “I’m afraid I have no glasses.”

“Never mind that, Commander,” Dorian waved him off as he took his seat. “As I was saying…”

Cullen sat, leaning forward onto the desk as he waited for Dorian to begin.

“If I am correct, it will not only require several rare ingredients, it will also cost you quite a bit of time. You must understand that this is not a simple fix,” Dorian warned as Cullen nodded. “I am not even sure how long it will take, truth be told. It could be a few days, it could be a week or more. Are you prepared to make that kind of sacrifice?”

Cullen sat back in his chair, mulling his options.

“I will be unable to work during this time? At all?”

Dorian nodded. “You will be confined to your bed, in absolutely no state to attend to your duties.” His eyes shifted to the side briefly. “I will also need to remain with you, to ensure everything is going smoothly.”

He could see Cullen stiffen slightly at the last statement, but he did a good job of hiding it. They were both quiet for another long moment before Cullen sighed, rubbing at his temple.

“Would you be so kind as to write the details down and send it to me? I must discuss this with the Inquisitor if I am to be unfit for duty.”

“Of course,” Dorian replied, standing. “Think it over in the meantime. I will not be offended, should you change your mind.” He paused on his way to the door. “If I am correct, this could potentially help a lot of people.”

“Thank you, Dorian,” Cullen nodded. “I will think it over.”

Dorian made his way back to his alcove, rather than back to the tavern.

_No time like the present_ , he thought, settling into his chair for the remainder of the night.

* * *

Cullen approached the Inquisitor the next morning, during their daily briefing.

“I would be unable to perform my duties for the duration of the treatment,” he explained. “And for however long the recovery period should be. But I believe it will be worth it.”

“You’re a fool, Cullen,” Trevelyan shook his head. “You’re taking away one of the most vital things that makes us a Templar.”

“I wish to be a Templar no longer,” Cullen growled, wheeling on the man. “I may suffer for a week with Dorian’s treatment, or I may suffer for what little lifetime I have left.”

Trevelyan rolled his eyes as he leaned against the war table, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Have you spoken to Cassandra?”

“I have not,” Cullen admitted. “I thought it best to approach you first.”

The Inquisitor nodded, deep in thought.

“I don’t like it, Commander,” he finally answered. “I think you’re being reckless and more than a little irrational. But if Cassandra would be willing to take over your duties, I will permit it.”

Cullen let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Inquisitor. I shall speak to her directly and inform you of our plans.”

“On with you then,” Trevelyan waved him away, turning his attention back to the table.

Cassandra was on the training grounds, practicing on one of the dummies as Cullen approached.

“Commander,” she panted, wiping the sweat from her brow. “I do not usually see you here at this hour.”

“I must speak to you about a delicate subject,” he replied, quietly. Realization dawned in her eyes and she nodded curtly towards her quarters.

“Has it gotten worse?” she demanded as soon as they were alone.

“Yes and no,” Cullen began, pacing the room. “They are becoming more frequent…but I may have a solution.”

“Oh?”

He quickly explained Dorian’s plan, relieved when Cassandra began nodding in approval.

“I think it is an excellent idea,” she agreed. “Have you spoken to the Inquisitor?”

“I have,” Cullen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He…feels I am acting rashly.”

Cassandra snorted. “Of course he does. The man is nothing if not stubborn,” she smiled faintly.

“He did agree to it in the end,” Cullen continued. “On the agreement that you would take over my duties until I am fit to return.”

Cassandra didn’t immediately reply and Cullen began to worry. His job  _did_ require quite a lot, and would most likely force her to remain at Skyhold until he was well enough to return.

“I am sure Rylen would be willing to –“ he began before Cassandra held up a hand, shushing him.

“I would be happy to, Commander,” she smiled. “I will speak to the Inquisitor. Perhaps get him to see reason. In the meantime, figure out what you need to do and please keep both of us informed. I will not speak a word of it to anyone else.”

Cullen felt the relief pour through his chest and he resisted the urge to hug the woman.

“Thank you,” he breathed, smiling. “So much.”

He excused himself, making a beeline for the library. He and Dorian had planning to do.

* * *

“They agreed? That’s excellent news, Commander,” Dorian exclaimed. He reached for a piece of paper nestled inside a book off to his side.

“We have a long list of ingredients to collect before we begin,” he continued, handing the paper to Cullen.

“These are rare but not unheard of,” Cullen frowned at the sheet. “I can go with a small contingent of men…”

“No,” Dorian said firmly. “I must collect them myself. There are very specific things I must look for and, no offense Commander, but your soldiers wouldn’t have the faintest idea.”

Cullen chuckled softly. “Well, you are not going by yourself, and I refuse to let you do all the work alone. I shall travel with you.”

Dorian cocked his head to the side, not bothering to hide his surprise and confusion.

“If you wish, Commander, but it is not necessary. I am quite capable of—“

“I know you are, Dorian,” Cullen cut in. “But you will share this burden and I am offering. I would not feel right otherwise.”

“Very well,” Dorian shrugged. “Let me know when you wish to depart.”

“I will speak to the Inquisitor, but plan on leaving tomorrow.”

Cullen nodded as he took his leave, Dorian staring after him in wonder.

This was going to be a very interesting trip.

* * *

“Why must these plants be so hard to reach?” Dorian grumbled as he groped at the rocks above him.

Cullen let out an audible sigh a short distance away, massaging the bridge of his nose as he waited. The last two weeks had been…trying, to say the least. He and Dorian (somehow) managed to get along well enough, but the mage was clearly not fond of being in the wild.

“A little help here?” Dorian called, the annoyance evident in his voice. Cullen trudged over, climbing onto the small outcropping next to Dorian.

“No, not  _that_  one,” Dorian rebuked, shoving him over slightly with his hip.

“Well it’s the only one I can reach,” he retorted sharply, nudging Dorian back. “What does it even—“

His words were cut off as the mage lost his footing, clutching at Cullen’s cloak just in time to prevent himself from falling off. Cullen reached down, grasping his forearms to haul him back up. The force of the movement, along with Dorian’s shaky balance, threw the mage right into Cullen’s body.

Cullen stepped away quickly, hoping his face was not as flushed as it felt.

“Could you at least  _try_  not to injure yourself, please?” he scowled.

“It was not my intention, I assure you,” Dorian replied offhandedly, brushing the dirt off his clothes. “Besides, if I wished to be pressed up against you I can think of several more enjoyable ways for that to happen.”

Now he knew his face was red, and he turned back to the problematic plants, reaching up and grabbing a handful in an effort to move on. He thrust them at Dorian before he could protest, then quickly climbed back down.

“You can sort them out later. Let’s move on.”

Dorian huffed behind him but said nothing else.

He noticed the mage was much quieter that afternoon, and they traveled in near silence until early evening.

“Do you wish to keep moving, or should we camp here?”

“Let’s stop,” Dorian replied, setting his pack on the ground. “I’d like to take inventory of what we’ve collected so far before the sunlight disappears completely.”

They both worked quickly to set up their makeshift camp. Dorian began removing and organizing the plants while Cullen began dinner, occasionally glancing at the mage while he worked.

The last of the fading sun bathed Dorian in a fiery, almost ethereal glow. It reflected off of the mass of shiny buckles on his clothing and illuminated the slight frown on his face as he moved.

Cullen couldn’t help the slight pang he felt in his stomach at the sight. He was well aware of his attraction to other men – something he did not advertise, but something he had realized long ago. It was one thing to appreciate another man’s beauty, but he had rarely found himself in the company of someone that  _pulled_  to him. And Dorian, for all his faults, was breathtaking.

The man was not shy about his body either. They often bathed at the same time, when possible, and while Dorian was courteous enough not to openly gawk at the man, he had caught him quickly looking away more than once. Cullen, for his part, snuck glances at the mage whenever he could…although he had a feeling Dorian knew this and went out of his way to display himself in the best way possible.

Cullen was so lost in his train of thought that he didn’t realize Dorian had paused and was now looking at him.

“Something wrong, Commander?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What? No!” Cullen turned back to the fire quickly, stirring the contents of the small pot in front of him. “I thought I…saw something.”

“Do tell me if we are to be attacked by bandits,” he said wryly. “I do not feel like having my plants trampled on.”

“How are we doing?” Cullen asked, still staring at the fire.

“ _We_  are doing much better than I anticipated, Commander. We haven’t fought once!”

“Wha—” Cullen frowned, confused as Dorian laughed.  _Oh._  He smiled sheepishly, happy that the firelight blocked much of his face.

“In all seriousness, I believe we will be finished quite soon,” Dorian chuckled, gingerly wrapping the plants and placing them back in his pack.

“Good,” Cullen murmured. Another pang shot through his stomach as Dorian sat down next to him, pulling his legs up so he could rest his head on his knees.

“You look tired, Commander,” he said.

“I am always tired,” Cullen smirked. “And you do not need to call me Commander while we’re out here. Cullen is fine.”

“Alright,  _Cullen_ ,” Dorian corrected. “So, now that we’re being so informal with each other, may I ask why you decided to stop taking the lyrium?”

Cullen stiffened. He had been expecting this question for a while now, but still hadn’t come up with an appropriate response. It was not a casual conversation, and he knew Dorian would not take a vague, offhanded remark for an answer.

“I am no longer a Templar,” he began, keeping his eyes focused on the fire. “I would like to…break the chain.”

“Hmmm” was Dorian’s only response.

They sat silently for a few minutes as Cullen stirred their food. He peeked over at Dorian, only to see the mage thoughtfully staring into the fire as well.

“Are you not worried what the loss of lyrium will do to your abilities?” Dorian finally asked.

“No.”

“And you do not care if you’re shunned by your fellow – or former fellow – Templars?”

“No.”

“What does Trevelyan think?”

“He…thinks I’m a fool,” Cullen admitted.

“Well, he’s a bit thick in the head,” Dorian snorted. “ _I_  think you are doing the right thing.”

Cullen glanced sideways at him, but Dorian was still looking at the fire.

“You do?”

“Of course. I think it is a ridiculous practice. I think the Order, in general, is laughable, but you might smite me if I go on too long.”

The scorn in his voice was palpable, and Cullen was immediately reminded of the afternoon in the library.

“I apologize for that,” he said regrettably, catching Dorian’s sharp gaze.

“Well, I suppose I forgive you,” Dorian stretched. “Of course, you can always make it up to me.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” Cullen cautiously asked.

“Fine wine? Perhaps some imported desserts? Use your imagination, Commander. Sorry,  _Cullen_.”

Cullen huffed out a laugh as began spooning their food into two small bowls, handing one to Dorian. They made idle conversation for the rest of the evening, but in the days that followed, he felt a shift in their relationship. There was understanding, where there once was none. Cullen felt closer to the man, somehow. Dorian, for his part, seemed more at ease around him. He spoke more freely, with less bravado and showmanship and more enthusiasm and intellect. He did not need to impress Cullen, and did not try.

Soon enough, Dorian announced that they had what they needed, and would be able to begin their trip home.

* * *

The return trip to Skyhold was thankfully uneventful. Cullen was eager to begin treatment and return to his regular duties – hopefully in much better physical and mental health.

He was quite nervous, however, about what the treatment would actually entail. Dorian had explained that he would administer the doses at regular intervals, but Cullen would be incapacitated for the majority of the time.

The mage had also assured him that he would be present in Cullen’s quarters the entire time. The idea sent a strange thrill through his spine. He had grown used to being in Dorian’s often frustrating company, but he had grown fond of the cheeky observations and wry comments that seemed to flow from Dorian’s mouth like water.

“Something on your mind, Cullen?” Dorian asked. The fortress loomed in the distance, and Cullen had been hoping they would make it to the gates without his change in mood being noticed.

“Not at all,” he responded with forced casualness. “I was just thinking how happy I am to be sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

“Well, I should hope it’s comfortable because you’ll be spending quite a bit of time there over the next few weeks,” Dorian snorted.

“How soon do you think it will be until we begin?”

“Tomorrow, hopefully,” Dorian answered, glancing at Cullen once more. “I hope you aren’t eager to be rid of me because our time together is just beginning.”

“No…no, not at all,” Cullen stammered. “I, ah, welcome the company.

“Oh, Commander, how I have longed for you to invite me to your bed!” Dorian waved one arm dramatically as he pretended to swoon.

“Dorian!” Cullen shushed him, looking around although no one was remotely nearby. Dorian laughed but stopped his performance.

“But seriously, Cullen…or, do I have to go back to calling you ‘Commander’ now?”

“I…prefer my title in public,” he replied, feeling slightly guilty at the request.

“Oh, so when I’m in your  _bedchamber_  I can call you Cullen? What will people think?” Dorian exclaimed, winking at the groaning man beside him.

“They will think nothing because we are telling them nothing,” Cullen sighed. “No one is to know what we are doing, Dorian.”

“Then I’ll make sure when I shout your name I’ll keep it to a dull roar.”

Cullen looked over at him sharply, feeling his face turn red.

“Why…why would you be shouting my name?” he asked, sheepishly. Dorian pondered him for a minute before bursting into laughter.

“You misunderstand me, Commander,” Dorian grinned, clearly  _intending_  for Cullen to have the wrong impression. “You will most likely be darting in and out of consciousness. I may have to shout your name for you to focus on me?”

“Ah.” Cullen rubbed the back of what he was sure was a very red neck.

“Of course, if you would like me to shout your name for  _other_  reasons, you only need tell me,” Dorian smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Cullen shook his head, choosing to end the conversation through silence rather than another awkward statement. They were almost at Skyhold anyway, it would be best to get back into their more formal roles.

As they made their way across the bridge leading to the gates, though, Cullen turned to Dorian, pausing the man briefly.

“I will most likely be busy the rest of the day,” he began awkwardly. “But ah, if you would like to come to my quarters for…dinner? We could discuss this thing. Tomorrow. Discuss it today, about tomorrow. Maker…” he shook his head. Why was it suddenly so hard to talk to the man?

Dorian smirked, and Cullen could see he was holding back a laugh.

“ _I_ will most likely be busy the rest of the day as well, Commander. Preparing tonics and the like?”

“Oh…right,” Cullen smiled. Of course he would be. “Well then, just come find me tomorrow when you are ready to begin.”

Dorian nodded and they resumed their trek, parting ways with a cordial dip of their heads once they were safely inside the fortress.

* * *

Dorian had plenty of time to reflect upon Cullen’s odd attitude that evening as he was preparing the concoctions. Over the course of the last few weeks the man had gone from a sulking, proper gentleman with the utmost courtesy to this stammering, blushing schoolboy who shot Dorian furtive glances whenever he thought the mage wasn’t looking.

What had he done to cause the man’s different attitude?  _Aside from being stuck in my charming presence against his will, of course,_  he reasoned.

He decided to push the thoughts from his mind as he made his way to Cullen’s office, vials packed neatly in the case he carried with him. He was sure as soon as the man was cured he would go back to his usual, aloof self and Dorian would have to pretend nothing happened.

He did notice that there were far fewer recruits stationed near Cullen’s office and none at all outside of his doors. He really  _was_  serious about keeping this quiet. Unfortunately, that meant he had no one to let him in.

“Commander, I have a…delivery for you,” he called, tapping the door with his foot.

Cullen was there immediately, quickly glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention. Dorian rolled his eyes as he walked past him into the room. People were going to catch on sooner or later.

He set the box down on the desk, watching as Cullen locked all three doors.

“And if there’s an emergency?” Dorian asked, raising his eyebrows.

“People have keys,” Cullen mumbled, checking them all again to make sure. He turned to see Dorian smirking at him as he leaned on the desk.

“So, are we ready then?” Dorian asked. Cullen was very obviously nervous but nodded his head anyway.

“Yes, I believe so. I ah, brought some things upstairs for you, and…” he fished the key back from his pocket, handing it to Dorian. “For when you wish to come and go.”

They made their way to Cullen’s quarters, Dorian noticing the extra pillows and blankets that were resting on the table next to an upholstered chair. He had never been in Cullen’s room before, but he had a feeling these were new additions. He was touched that the man had thought about his comfort, as little as it might be.

He placed the box on the table and turned to look at Cullen, who was quietly removing his armor and arranging it on the rack.

“I would wear as little as you are comfortable with, Commander.”

Cullen shot him a glance before nodding his head.

“I will wear my bedclothes, then?” he asked, walking to his trunk and removing a pair of trousers and a loose shirt.

Dorian shrugged. “If that’s what you want,” he replied, walking towards the window to give the man privacy as he changed.

“What now?” came the apprehensive voice behind him a few moments later. Dorian turned around to see him nervously rubbing the back of his neck as he looked towards the box on the table.

Dorian honestly had no idea how painful this would be. He imagined it would be uncomfortable more than anything – like being trapped in the throes of an unrelenting fever, complete with body aches, sweating, and whatever else the body did to rid itself of a disease. He had told Cullen as much, but that did not seem to ease his worries.

“Lie down and get comfortable,” Dorian gestured towards the bed as he reached for the first small vial.

“There are so many,” Cullen whispered.

“Yes, well. You’ve been taking lyrium for quite some time, your body is not going to adjust overnight.”

Cullen nodded, situating himself in the bed before looking at Dorian expectantly.

“Lucky for you, you should still be awake for a bit and can listen to me regale you with stories about how wonderful I am,” he grinned, handing Cullen the bottle.

Cullen drank it in one gulp, grimacing at the taste.

“I’ve heard plenty of those stories, I can’t believe you have more.”

“Commander!” Dorian gasped in mock offense. “I have enough stories to last for  _weeks_.”

“Is that part of my treatment?” Cullen groaned, sinking back into his pillows with a small smile quirking at the corners of his mouth.

“Perhaps.”

They chatted easily over the course of the next hour before Cullen began to grow sleepy, eventually drifting off in the middle of Dorian’s story about the time he accidentally struck his father’s carriage with lightning and conjured a storm to cover it up.

With Cullen asleep – peacefully, for the moment – Dorian took the opportunity to examine the rest of the room. As he inspected the hole in the ceiling, he began to wonder if perhaps another room would have been better suited.

It wasn’t until after the second dose several hours later that Dorian heard the first moan from the bed. Cullen was twitching as if he were dreaming (and, Dorian thought, he probably was) and sweat was beginning to break out on his forehead. He had taken Cullen’s washbasin and a rag, and with a quick flick of his hand had a cold compress ready for his head…which Cullen promptly threw off. This might be more difficult than Dorian had anticipated.

The routine went on well into the night. Dorian would rouse Cullen enough to take his next dose, Cullen would fall back into delirium, and Dorian would attempt to catch a quick nap, eat, stretch his legs, or anything other than sitting and staring at Cullen’s increasingly pained expression. He couldn’t leave the man, though.

The next couple days went on much the same. Cullen was rarely lucid for more than a couple minutes at a time, enough for Dorian to coax some food and water into him, have him use the chamber pot and take his next dose. This left Dorian with more quiet time on his hands than he had had in a long time. As tempting as it was to sneak away to the tavern for an hour, he only allowed himself to leave Cullen alone for vital errands.

He was dozing on the fourth day when he was awoken to someone saying his name.

“Dorian?”

He looked over to see Cullen mumbling fitfully in his sleep, brow furrowed and sweaty once more. He got up to fetch the cold rag, frowning. He hoped the fever would be close to breaking by now, but Cullen seemed to only be sinking deeper into oblivion.

He pressed the cool cloth to Cullen’s head, whispering a quiet “shhh” to the man as he let out another moan.

“Dorian…”

The mage looked closer at Cullen’s face, but he was still clearly asleep. And…dreaming of Dorian?

“…like the way your hand feels.”

Dorian froze.

“Cullen? Can you hear me?”

There was no response from the other man and Dorian let himself relax. It was just the fever; he had no idea what he was saying. He ran the cloth softly across Cullen’s face, watching the way the man unconsciously leaned into his touch.

The man was also in desperate need of a bath, but that couldn’t be helped until he was mobile. Dorian rinsed the cloth before unlacing the top of Cullen’s tunic, running the cool rag across his neck and shoulders.

Cullen let out a guttural moan at the contact, causing Dorian’s stomach to clench. At any other time, the noise would have been enough to set Dorian aflame with want. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, quickly finishing his cleansing.

“More,” Cullen whimpered.

How could a man  _whimper_  like this in his sleep? Dorian did not comply, instead bringing the rag and basin back to its normal spot. He needed to resist the urge, although he wanted nothing more than to run his hands all over the man’s body.

_It is a foolish idea,_  he thought bitterly. Cullen did not, and would not, ever hold any interest in him. There was no point in letting his mind run away with fantasies of drawing those same noises out of his throat when the man was awake.

“Dorian?”

Dorian made his way back to the bed, looking doubtfully at the man who now had his eyes slitted open.

“Sit with me?” Cullen whispered.

“Well, it  _has_  been all I’ve done for the last several days,” Dorian murmured with a wry grin. Not that Cullen would see it.

“Thank you.”

Cullen turned his head slightly in Dorian’s direction, giving him a small smile as his hand erratically patted the empty space between them.

“Shhhh, Cullen. Just relax.” Dorian reached out to still his hand…which Cullen promptly grabbed, entwining their fingers together. Dorian swallowed the lump in his throat, gazing at the man who was now yawning and settling back into his pillow.

“I like you, Dorian.”

“Yes, well…I like you too,” Dorian answered, bemused. He tried to extract his hand, but Cullen was still clutching it tightly.

“I mean I  _really_  like you,” Cullen smiled, looking back at him.

Dorian frowned. The man surely had to be delirious.

“Cullen…do you know where you are right now?”

“My bed.”

“Do you know why?”

“I’m tired, Dorian.”

“Do you know  _why_  you are tired?”

Cullen yawned again, finally letting go of the mage’s hand.

“Probably too much to drink at Wicked Grace,” he replied, settling back into the bed. Within moments, he was fast asleep, leaving Dorian to ponder his words.

He refused to allow himself hope, especially due to his earlier thoughts. No, it was best to push the notion out of his head once more. Cullen was clearly not himself and had no idea what he was saying. There was no point in taking the words to heart, only to have an awkward discussion later while the man attempted to take back whatever he said.

* * *

The routine continued, with the fever breaking on about the eighth day. At this point, it would only be a matter of time before the man awoke and began fighting his way back to health. It would only be once he was awake and active that they could determine whether or not it worked.

* * *

Dorian was pacing the room one evening, having just returned from the kitchen with his next ration of food when he heard a noise and shuffling coming from the bed.

Cullen groaned, rubbing his head gingerly as he opened his eyes. Dorian was at his side in an instant with a cup of water, which Cullen gratefully accepted.

“How long has it been?” he rasped after draining the cup.

“Almost 10 days,” Dorian responded, taking it back and placing it on the table. “How do you feel?”

“Like I was trampled by a horde of darkspawn,” Cullen sighed, running a hand down his face. “Did…did it work?”

Dorian smiled. The anxiety on Cullen’s face was palpable and all he wanted to do was lean over and kiss the worry lines away.

“I believe so, but we will have to wait and see,” he murmured, brushing a stray piece of hair out of his face. Cullen stiffened at the touch and Dorian quickly took his hand back.

“Sorry, force of habit,” Dorian apologized, mentally kicking himself for the indiscretion.

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” Cullen smiled bashfully. “So, was I a good patient?”

“Tolerable, I suppose,” Dorian sighed dramatically. “I will be happy to sleep in a bed again, I will say that much.”

“What do you mean?” Cullen frowned. “What’s wrong with your bed?”

“I told you I was not leaving your side,” Dorian reminded him. “That included sleep.”

Cullen’s face went from disbelief to horror to apologetic within a matter of seconds.

“I’ll be all right, Dorian. You should get some sleep tonight.”

Dorian shrugged. “Perhaps you will. Maybe you won’t. I’ll be staying regardless.”

Cullen huffed in frustration and looked away.

“Now, since you finally have your wits about you, I suggest eating before you inevitably fall asleep again,” Dorian continued, choosing to ignore the annoyed man in front of him. Cullen sullenly obeyed, and within the hour was fast asleep once more.

Dorian had to admit that the idea of sleeping in a bed for the first time in nearly two weeks was a very tempting offer, but Cullen was not nearly ready to spend a night on his own. He sighed, deciding to spend the rest of the evening with a book and his small dinner and  _not_  thinking about where he would be spending another fitful night.

* * *

The argument occurred again the next evening.

“Dorian,” Cullen said impatiently, “you have not slept in a real bed in almost two weeks. I will not let you inconvenience yourself another night on my behalf.”

Dorian opened his mouth to respond, but Cullen continued.

“Either you retire to your quarters for the night, or you sleep here.”

“Well, yes, those  _would_  be the two options,” Dorian snorted.

“No, I mean  _here_ ,” Cullen glared, pointing to the other side of the bed.

He looked at Cullen incredulously. “Are you… _commanding_  me to sleep in your bed?”

Cullen blushed, surprised at his own boldness. “Would you listen, even if I did?”

“Has the fever done something to your brain, Commander?” Dorian smirked. “I don’t recall you being quite so brash.”

“Yes, well…” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, the redness still spreading. “Regardless, I mean it.”

“I don’t quite think you’re in a position to be giving me orders, you know.”

“Dorian,” Cullen sighed, “just…do it for me? You’ve gone through all this trouble. It would make me feel better.”

Dorian rubbed his face before letting out a small laugh.

“Fine. You win. But if I’m uncomfortable, I’m getting up and going back to my chair.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow, looking between Dorian and the chair.

“You think my bed will be more uncomfortable than  _that?_ ”

Dorian merely shook his head. How was he supposed to tell Cullen that  _he_ was the reason for his possible discomfort?

“I don’t even have any sleepwear,” he pointed out.

“Wear something of mine,” Cullen grinned.

“I – ugh,” Dorian threw his hands up in exasperation. “There is no end to this with you.”

Cullen just chuckled softly as Dorian made his way to the trunk. Everything in there was much too large, so he settled on the smallest things he could find, cuffing the hems until they somewhat fit. He turned to see Cullen grinning widely at him.

“Not a word,” Dorian snapped, marching to the bed. He felt ridiculous…the sooner this was over, the better.

To his credit, Cullen said nothing. Dorian walked to the opposite side of the bed, settling in quickly before pulling the blankets over him.

“Doesn’t that feel better already?” Cullen asked.

Dorian had to admit it felt wonderful, but he didn’t want to give Cullen a reason to gloat.

“Yes, well…if you kick me during the night, I shall be forced to retaliate.”

That got a hearty laugh out of the other man which quickly turned to coughing. Dorian sat up immediately, looking him over.

“I’m fine,” Cullen gasped, reaching for his cup of water and taking a long drink.

Dorian huffed and rolled over onto his side, facing away from him. Hopefully, they would both fall asleep quickly and put this awkwardness behind them. Or  _he_ would, at least. Cullen didn’t seem bothered at all.

“Night, Dorian,” Cullen murmured sleepily behind him.

“Good night, Commander.”

“Cullen,” he mumbled. He was out moments later and Dorian felt himself relax. Perhaps he would get a decent night’s rest tonight, which would do wonders for his rapidly deteriorating good humor.

Sleep came easily, and when he was awoken a couple hours later, Dorian wasn’t exactly sure where he was. He froze, realizing he was being held down and began preparing a spell to extract himself when he felt…nuzzling?

He blinked a few times as the memory of where he was came back to him, and upon looking down, he realized his suspicions were right.

Cullen was  _cuddling_  with him.

The larger man was pressed up behind him, one arm draped over Dorian’s waist, holding him close as his face nuzzled into the back of Dorian’s neck.

What was he supposed to do now?

“Cullen,” he hissed over his shoulder, getting no response.

“Cullen!” he said a little louder. Cullen did nothing but mumble under his breath and move closer.

Dorian sighed. He was actually quite comfortable, and Cullen’s added warmth helped with the chill that unavoidably settled into the room in the middle of the night. If only his feelings for the man weren’t so…complicated.

Now he just hoped they un-entangled themselves before morning to avoid an awkward explanation.

* * *

Thankfully the next morning they were lying on opposite sides of the bed, with no hints of their previous night’s contact. Dorian remained silent, only telling Cullen that he had slept soundly and thanked him for convincing him to sleep there. Cullen beamed at the praise, happily taking the food and water (and next dose) that Dorian handed to him without complaint.

Cullen was able to stay awake for longer and longer stretches of time now, but Dorian was worried at the slowness of his recovery. He tried not to voice these concerns, for fear of worrying Cullen unnecessarily, but he had a feeling the man knew.

And while under other circumstances he would have loved to say this phrase, he began spending every night in Cullen’s bed. Most nights he slept soundly, waking up feeling refreshed and prepared to urge Cullen along in his healing.

It was after one such night, a couple days later, when he was awoken by a noise coming from the ladder to Cullen’s loft. It also happened to be an instance when Cullen was feeling more…affectionate than usual, curled up against Dorian’s back with the covers pulled close over them both.

Dorian lifted himself up slightly, the sheet falling from his bare chest (he had also given up wearing Cullen’s clothes) and saw Cassandra paused on the top of the ladder, face twisted into disapproval. Dorian leaped from the bed, grabbing a nearby shirt and shooed her back down.

“Dorian, what is the meaning of this?” she demanded almost immediately. “You are supposed to be helping him, not—“ she waved her hand back towards the room, “not whatever it is you were doing.”

“I  _am_  helping him, Seeker,” Dorian hissed. “ _He_  is the one who suggested this. Nothing untoward is happening.”

“And why would he suggest this?” Cassandra studied him carefully.

“He felt guilty?” Dorian began pacing the area in front of Cullen’s desk. “He said it wasn’t fair that I was taking care of him and sleeping in a chair every night. And frankly, Seeker, my back agreed with him.”

“I see.”

Dorian sighed, stopping to look at her.

“He is doing much better. I believe the mixture worked, but I will not know for sure until he is recovered and back to work.” He resumed his pacing as Cassandra remained silent, still considering.

“Do you care for him?”

Dorian froze, turning slowly to face her, expecting an amused or sarcastic smirk on her face. He should have known better, as the warrior stood with her arms crossed, no hint of a joke on her face.

“I…well…” he fumbled. He wasn’t entirely sure what response to give that wouldn’t result in a hand on his throat.

“Yes, alright?” he finally admitted. “But it doesn’t matter, and you will say nothing to him. My feelings should not interfere with his treatment and recovery.”

Cassandra’s mouth twitched only slightly at the corner before smoothing into her impassive glare.

“I think you would be good for him,” she finally said. “Perhaps he needs someone who cares for him in…such a way.”

“I— what do you mean?” Now he was confused. He  _had_  been caring for him, what else was she implying?

“I mean,” she replied impatiently, “that perhaps you may help him in ways you do not realize. He needs someone to look after him. Someone besides me,” she added hastily. “Perhaps he needs something – someone – to care for as well. To…help him heal.”

Dorian was silent as he pondered her words. She couldn’t be implying what he thought…could she?

“You should return,” she said, cutting into his thoughts. “Just think about what I said.”

He nodded as she turned and swiftly left the room.

Yes, he definitely had plenty of thinking to do.

* * *

Cullen’s strength was returning more and more each day, and as much as he wanted to continue spending time with Dorian, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain bedridden and immobile. He was getting antsy, but Dorian – who barely left his side for more than a few minutes at a time – felt he was not ready to get out of bed and begin moving again.

It was partially his own fault, really. He was dragging out his recuperation time on purpose…something he was pretty sure Dorian suspected but remained silent on. He could never tell the man, but having him there put him at ease. Something he never would have suspected. He even woke a few times to find the mage cradled in his arms, fast asleep with a look of contentment on his face. He looked so serene, Cullen had no plans to inform him and risk Dorian sleeping in his chair again instead.

He needed to get used to the fact that things would be different once he was well. They would go back to barely seeing each other, although he had a feeling things would be much less antagonistic than before. The idea still haunted him, though. He didn’t  _want_  to be rid of Dorian. As infuriating as he could be, the man was extremely intelligent and provided some of the most lively conversations he had experienced in years.

It was during one such conversation, a little over two weeks since the treatment began, that Cassandra appeared in his quarters.

“Dorian, would you excuse us?” she asked – commanded – firmly.

Dorian looked between the two and nodded, excusing himself, claiming he would retrieve that day’s food for the pair and stretch his legs a bit.

Cullen looked at Cassandra curiously, who waited until she heard Dorian close the door before approaching.

“I thought perhaps you might be restless,” she began, handing him some papers with a smirk.

“You’re bringing me  _work?_ ” he chuckled.

“You need not do anything,” she smiled warmly at him. “I just thought perhaps you could use some…light reading, while you were stuck in bed.”

“I don’t know if I should thank you or not,” he said wryly, flipping through the sheets.

“He’s good for you, you know.”

“Pardon me?” He furrowed his brow, looking at an amused Cassandra staring back at him. Oh.  _Dorian_.

“Nothing is going on,” he responded quickly. ”Whatever it might look like. We’ve become close…butfriendly, nothing more.”

“I meant because he is taking such good care of you,” she smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What did  _you_ think I meant?”

“Ah,” he chuckled, feeling his face flush. When she didn’t continue he sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “I may…feel slightly more than friendly towards him.”

“I couldn’t tell,” she deadpanned.

“Please don’t say anything,” he pleaded. “I don’t want things to be…awkward.”

“I will say nothing,” she assured him. “But I believe  _you_  should.” Her eyes twinkled as she smirked at his reluctance. “I have a feeling you may be pleasantly surprised.”

“I…what?” He peered at her, although she did nothing but stare back with the same impassive, mischevious look on her face. “Fine, I will think on it,” he conceded.

They talk briefly about the reports in his hands before she takes her leave. The papers are all but forgotten as soon as she disappears, the other topic of conversation weighing heavily on his mind. He knows the longer he dwells on it, the more difficult it will be to act normal around Dorian. Perhaps he should say something as soon as he returns.

It is nearly thirty minutes before he does return, and Cullen’s resolve is dwindling as each one passes.

“Good news, Commander,” he grins as he reenters the room. “Today was baking day and I stole us some cookies when no one was looking.”

Cullen grins in return, looking at the pile of food Dorian placed on the table.

“I was also thinking,” he continued casually, “that perhaps this would be a good time to start you walking again. Or at least standing.”

“Excellent idea,” Cullen agreed, throwing off the sheet and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Not without help!” Dorian shouted, rushing over to fling Cullen’s arm around his shoulder, propping the man up as his legs almost gave out.

“You…haven’t used your legs in over two weeks,” he grunted, attempting to hold the sagging man. “You must start small.”

Cullen huffed in annoyance and sat back down on the bed, glaring at his ill-functioning appendages.

“Perhaps some simple movements to start, and we’ll work our way up to walking, hmmm?” Dorian suggested.

They begin a routine that day to strengthen the unused muscles, and by the end of the second day Cullen was able to stand without assistance. Walking, however, was proving to be another challenge.

“You’ll get there,” Dorian soothed him that night as they crawled into bed. “Tomorrow even, perhaps.”

Cullen sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Yes, perhaps.”

The next day rolls around and Dorian is not willing to push him, encouraging him to take simple steps, holding on to the furniture for help.

“I’m not a child, Dorian,” he snaps, frustrated when he still cannot do it on his own.

“No, you are not,” Dorian responds patiently, watching from a short distance away. “But that does not change the fact that you will fall flat on your ass if you try to do this alone.”

The mood breaks as Cullen chuckles, Dorian joining in. Cullen uses it as a distraction to quickly turn and begin walking in Dorian’s direction, unaided by the man or the furniture.

“Cullen, what are you—“ Dorian shouted, rushing over. Cullen makes it the few steps to meet Dorian, grasping the mage on his shoulders as Dorian grips him around waist, steadying him.

Dorian looked up at the slightly taller man in surprise, watching a grin spread across Cullen’s face.

“You must have some faith in me,” he laughed, before leaning down to brush a small kiss across Dorian’s lips. “And thank you.”

Dorian’s eyes went wide as he let go, causing Cullen to stagger backward and sit heavily on the bed.

“Um, you’re…quite welcome,” he stammered, looking anywhere except at Cullen. “Don’t mention it.”

Cullen could feel the sinking in his chest at the words, growling in frustrating as he leaned down, resting his head in his hands.

“I knew it,” he muttered.

“Knew what?” Dorian asked curiously, taking a few steps closer.

“I knew I misread things. I feel so stupid…”

“Misread  _what,_  Cullen?”

“Your feelings for me. Or rather…Cassandra said I should…”

“What does Cassandra have to do with this?” Dorian asked warily.

“Nothing,” Cullen shook his head. “Forget I said – or did – anything. I feel like a fool.”

Dorian sat next to him on the bed, gently laying his hand on the other man’s. Cullen frowned, looking from their hands to Dorian’s face, where a small smile was beginning to appear.

“Please, just tell me,” Dorian murmured.

“I…care about you,” he replied, looking away. “And I thought perhaps you felt the same. Cassandra said I should tell you and…”

Dorian burst into laughter.

“Of  _course_  she did, that sly woman,” he grinned.

Cullen sighed. “Please don’t laugh at me, Dorian.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Dorian explained, turning Cullen’s head towards his. “I  _do_  feel the same way about you. I thought I was wrong and…”

Dorian’s words were cut off by Cullen’s lips pressed against his once more. This time Dorian permitted it, allowing his hand to gently snake into Cullen’s hair to hold the man close.

When they broke apart moments later, out of breath but smiling, it was Cullen who broke the silence first.

“I really do thank you, for all of this,” he whispered.

“Well, Cassandra did say that she believes we could help each other…heal,” Dorian replied with a small laugh. “I think perhaps she is correct.”

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written these two in SO long, but as soon as I started it just totally ran away from me (as you can see by my much-longer-than-5k word count). 
> 
> This mini-bang has been so full of amazing artists and writers! I hope you enjoyed :)


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